As soon as her body had settled on the ground, Valencia checked the back of her jacket. She had felt the seam tear where that giant brute had grabbed her, and tear further as he lightly tossed her out the one-way alley door. The flat seam over her shoulder blades had split, and her right sleeve was on its way off. The door closed, cutting off a laugh from inside with a thud and a click.
Valencia was not a petite woman, but those thugs had no problem tossing her out of Mack the Knife’s audience like a wayward child. Her jeans had protected her knees from the worst of a skinning, but the cloth was wearing thin. She looked at Kelle as the huge woman slowly got to her feet. Apparently, she wasn’t good in a fight or for her connections. Valencia sighed.
The alley was extremely dark, and very dirty. A flickering light bulb only provided enough illumination to see a dull 10 feet. There was a trail of trash from the closed, handleless door into the alley. An empty, rusted 24 ounce can stood staunchly next to the door frame- used to prop the door open on garbage runs, Valencia guessed. Litter around the alley was useless: half-empty bags from chips, broken glass, and more condom wrappers than Valencia wanted to ponder. Clearly it was all garbage that hadn’t quite made it out of the club and into the dumpsters.
At least the pair had not been tossed into the dumpsters, as the slightly smaller behemoth had suggested. The receptacles emitted a recognizable bouquet of warm garbage: a cloying scent warmed by the surrounding sun-baked bricks of the alley in daytime, and settled into the still, close-quarters at night.
Kelle began to move around the side of the brick building closest to her. Embarrassed and ready to move forward, Valencia guessed. The giantess called from around the corner,
“We’re fenced in on this side.”
Without anwering, Valencia felt her way along the side of the building closest to her with one hand. She glanced around the corner and sighed heavily. There was a little light to see by around the corner, from the street at the front of the club. Walking around the dim side of the building, streetlights from the front reached far enough to illuminate another fence, blocking the narrow space between buildings. Valencia heard steps coming behind her and tensed, pressing her body against the wall. However, the heavy gait matched Kelle’s, and she relaxed as the woman spoke again,
“There’s a fire escape going up to the roof, maybe if you stood on my-”
Valencia interrupted, guessing her idea, “How is that going to help us?” She hissed, “We need to find a way back in, not to the top of the building,”
“But there might be a door,” Kelle began. Valencia walked up to the fence, ignoring her.
There was a hole worn away at the base. It was large enough to accommodate at least one of them. Valencia shook her head again, No way, she said silently. Turning back, Kelle now stood at the other end of the small passage, staring dully at the hole in the fence.
“Move it,” Valencia whispered, as she lithely slipped past the shifting Kelle. She may be taller than the average woman, but Valencia still kept up her training as a light welterweight. Unfortunately, her time in the ring hadn’t helped when it came to Mack the Knife’s armed crew. She sighed again, frustrated. Valencia was rarely topped in a fight. Even when she was, she did not quit until a third party interjected. This was no amateur spar in a neighborhood gym, or brawl in a dockside dive. This time, Mack’s thugs had simply removed them when they were bored of their poorly designed bluffs. There was no fight to be had there.
Her companion interrupted her thoughts, “Looks like we’re boxed in. There’s no other exit.”
Valencia came back to earth. Feeling her way back towards the circle of light in the alley, she stopped short. Looking at the dumpsters, she spoke,
“How does the trash get picked up?” The woman did an about-face and, not checking to see if Kelle followed, began to walk purposefully down the alley, towards a street at least 2 blocks away. She had a feeling that bouncer out front had more to say, and her fists were itching for a conversation.
Valencia was not a petite woman, but those thugs had no problem tossing her out of Mack the Knife’s audience like a wayward child. Her jeans had protected her knees from the worst of a skinning, but the cloth was wearing thin. She looked at Kelle as the huge woman slowly got to her feet. Apparently, she wasn’t good in a fight or for her connections. Valencia sighed.
The alley was extremely dark, and very dirty. A flickering light bulb only provided enough illumination to see a dull 10 feet. There was a trail of trash from the closed, handleless door into the alley. An empty, rusted 24 ounce can stood staunchly next to the door frame- used to prop the door open on garbage runs, Valencia guessed. Litter around the alley was useless: half-empty bags from chips, broken glass, and more condom wrappers than Valencia wanted to ponder. Clearly it was all garbage that hadn’t quite made it out of the club and into the dumpsters.
At least the pair had not been tossed into the dumpsters, as the slightly smaller behemoth had suggested. The receptacles emitted a recognizable bouquet of warm garbage: a cloying scent warmed by the surrounding sun-baked bricks of the alley in daytime, and settled into the still, close-quarters at night.
Kelle began to move around the side of the brick building closest to her. Embarrassed and ready to move forward, Valencia guessed. The giantess called from around the corner,
“We’re fenced in on this side.”
Without anwering, Valencia felt her way along the side of the building closest to her with one hand. She glanced around the corner and sighed heavily. There was a little light to see by around the corner, from the street at the front of the club. Walking around the dim side of the building, streetlights from the front reached far enough to illuminate another fence, blocking the narrow space between buildings. Valencia heard steps coming behind her and tensed, pressing her body against the wall. However, the heavy gait matched Kelle’s, and she relaxed as the woman spoke again,
“There’s a fire escape going up to the roof, maybe if you stood on my-”
Valencia interrupted, guessing her idea, “How is that going to help us?” She hissed, “We need to find a way back in, not to the top of the building,”
“But there might be a door,” Kelle began. Valencia walked up to the fence, ignoring her.
There was a hole worn away at the base. It was large enough to accommodate at least one of them. Valencia shook her head again, No way, she said silently. Turning back, Kelle now stood at the other end of the small passage, staring dully at the hole in the fence.
“Move it,” Valencia whispered, as she lithely slipped past the shifting Kelle. She may be taller than the average woman, but Valencia still kept up her training as a light welterweight. Unfortunately, her time in the ring hadn’t helped when it came to Mack the Knife’s armed crew. She sighed again, frustrated. Valencia was rarely topped in a fight. Even when she was, she did not quit until a third party interjected. This was no amateur spar in a neighborhood gym, or brawl in a dockside dive. This time, Mack’s thugs had simply removed them when they were bored of their poorly designed bluffs. There was no fight to be had there.
Her companion interrupted her thoughts, “Looks like we’re boxed in. There’s no other exit.”
Valencia came back to earth. Feeling her way back towards the circle of light in the alley, she stopped short. Looking at the dumpsters, she spoke,
“How does the trash get picked up?” The woman did an about-face and, not checking to see if Kelle followed, began to walk purposefully down the alley, towards a street at least 2 blocks away. She had a feeling that bouncer out front had more to say, and her fists were itching for a conversation.